


hollow in the middle

by shinykari (meinterrupted)



Series: Prompt/Tumblr fic [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Anal Sex, Awesome Darcy Lewis, Clothed Sex, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Darcy is the fandom bicycle and I love it, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Fusion, Gen, Genderswap, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, Pegging, Rule 63, Threesome - F/M/M, Tropes, Vaginal Sex, Women Being Awesome, prompt fics, unrelated ficlets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 05:01:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 74
Words: 18,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meinterrupted/pseuds/shinykari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of unrelated prompt ficlets set in the MCU (including crossovers and one fusion AU); mostly Darcy Lewis-centric.</p><p>Each chapter is a separate story, and they are <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/535801/navigate">all labeled with pairing and prompt for ease of browsing</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. bruce/darcy, food fight

**Author's Note:**

> I was bored at work and begged for prompts on tumblr and then these happened. And then boring Fridays kept happening, and I kept writing.
> 
> None of these take place in the same universe except where noted, and they are all unbeta'd.
> 
> Title is from "Martin" by the Zac Brown Band.
> 
> Each chapter is titled by the character or pairing and the prompt, so you can skip right over to the ones that interest you using the [chapter index](http://archiveofourown.org/works/535801/navigate).

Darcy grinned as she bit into the cake, waiting until Bruce did the same before she sprung into action. With a quick wrist motion, she smeared white and green icing all over his face, and cake crumbs rained down to cling to the lapels of his tuxedo. His eyes widened in shock, then narrowed, and repeated the motion, though perhaps a little less messily, mindful of her dress. Darcy threw back her head and laughed, then wrapped her arms, messy icing hand and all, around her new husband, and kissed him square on the mouth. “Mmm, tastes even better like this,” she said as she licked a dollop of icing off his lips.


	2. darcy/clint, zombies in vegas

“Am I drunk?”

Clint glanced over at Darcy, whose makeup was smudged and cheeks were flushed. “Babe, we’ve been in Vegas for twelve hours, and we started drinking on the flight over. Yes, you are drunk. We’re both drunk.”

“But...” She trailed off and pointed at the group of dancers, dressed as zombies, that were currently performing “Thriller” on the Strip. “Am I drunk enough to hallucinate that?”

He grinned. “Welcome to Halloween in Vegas, Darcy.”


	3. darcy/loki, ice

Darcy yelped and sat straight up as what felt suspiciously like a snowball plopped onto her bare stomach. She raised her hand and squinted into the sun, glaring at the seemingly innocent chaos God sitting across the pool, reading a book. She brushed the remains of the shaved ice missile off her stomach, reached under her deck chair, and pulled out a Stark-modified Super Soaker. “You want to play, Iceman? We’ll play,” she muttered with an evil grin.


	4. johnny storm/darcy, motorcycle

“You know he’s going to kill you for this,” Darcy scolded as she fastened the helmet’s strap under her chin.

Johnny just grinned and revved the engine. “Nah, Cap loves me. I’m like the little brother he never had.”

Darcy rolled her eyes but wrapped her arms around his waist. “More like the little brother he never wanted,” she replied. “Now let’s see how fast this baby can go.”

He laughed and shifted the motorcycle into gear. “Your wish is my command.”


	5. darcy/steve, pre-serum

Darcy blinked awake, sleepy and confused. The other side of the bed was empty, and the clock said “3:23,” but she hadn’t heard the alarm, so it wasn’t an emergency. She sighed and climbed out of bed, a little slower than even a few weeks ago. She rubbed her still-expanding belly as the baby sensed her distress and kicked out. “Shhh, go back to sleep. Because Mommy’s going to be pissed if you start dancing on her bladder in twenty minutes.”

She shuffled into the main room of the apartment, where Steve was hunched over the dining room table. He didn’t look up as she stood behind him, but when she rested her hands on his shoulders, he melted into her touch. “Couldn’t sleep?” she asked softly.

He shook his head. “Thinking too much.”

She leaned in and kissed his mussed hair. “What’s got you worried this time, Cap?”

Steve pulled a familiar photo out of the manila folder lying on the table. It was slightly faded and the edges were torn, but the image was still clear as the day it had been taken. “Bruce says it might not... That my DNA might not have been fully altered,” he said, voice soft and strained. “That our baby might be sickly, like I was.”

Darcy sighed and pressed her forehead to the top of his head. “Steve, I don’t care if our baby has to walk around in a bubble for the rest of her life. It won’t change how I feel about you or about her.”

He swallowed, then turned in his chair and wrapped his arms around her waist, laying his cheek against her belly. “I love you,” he murmured, and she didn’t know if he was talking to her or to the baby. She supposed, in the end, it didn’t matter. They were family.


	6. natasha/clint, rainy fall afternoon

Natasha looked up from her book as the door slammed behind Clint. He was dripping wet, and was obviously not pleased by that. She arched an eyebrow at him. “I told you it was going to rain,” she said, voice level, but she couldn’t help the upward quirk of her mouth.

“No, Tasha, what you said was,” he countered as he stripped out of his sopping jacket and shirt and toed off his boots, “‘Take a jacket.’ I took a jacket. It didn’t help.”

She shrugged. “Don’t leave your wet clothes on the floor, it’ll stain.”

He glared at her, but gathered up the wet bundle of cloth and carried it with him to the bathroom. She heard the shower sputter on, and returned to her book. Several pages later, Clint padded back into the living room, wearing a pair of SHIELD-issued sweat pants and a faded ‘From Russia with Love’ tee shirt she’d gotten him as a gag years ago. He lay down on the couch, and she lifted her arm so he could pillow his head on her lap.

“What are you reading?”

Natasha smiled and carded her fingers through his hair. “The Thief,” she said. They were both silent for a moment, then, “I can read it aloud, if you want.”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

She flipped back to the first page, and cleared her throat. “‘I didn’t know how long I had been in the King’s prison...’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natasha is reading "The Thief" by Megan Whalen Turner.


	7. darcy & coulson, baby

Coulson cleared his throat, and Darcy snapped. “Whatever you’re going to say, I don’t want to hear it. I have had six hours sleep in the last week, my husband is god-knows-where doing god-knows-what for SHIELD, my babysitter’s sick, and I have to finish this goddamn report before Friday or the Council will be breathing down Fury’s neck even more than they already are. So THAT is why I brought my baby in to work, so you can take your rulebook and shove it right up your ass!”

Coulson didn’t look impressed or upset, his face as bland as it always was. “Are you done?”

She sighed and slumped forward, shooting a glance at the baby sleeping peacefully in her carseat. “Yeah.”

“What I was going to say is that there are several junior agents with child-care experience who would be happy to watch Sarah while you’re working. I could have one come pick her up shortly.”

She blinked up at him, her face flushing. “Oh. Well, then. Sorry about,” she waved her hand around, “that.”

He smiled. "I have three sisters and a half-dozen nieces and nephews, Darcy, and all three of them were complete bears while they were pregnant and after. I won’t hold it against you.” His smile turned wry. “This is your one freebie.”

“Yeah, yeah, my husband’s bigger than you,” she muttered as she leaned down to pick up the carrier.

“Only some of the time, Darcy,” Coulson said. ”And I outrank him all the time.”


	8. darcy/coulson, kidnapped

“I think God is trying to tell me something,” Darcy muttered. “The first time I go on a date in two years, and I get freaking kidnapped by a supervillain. Maybe I should just stay single.”

“I would hardly classify him as a ‘super’ villain,” Coulson retorted, as he skimmed his fingers along the doorframe. “Maybe ‘slightly above average villain.’”

“Or a ‘congratulations, you tried’ villain?” she offered, watching as Phil pulled something out of his pocket and went to work on the lock. “Maybe an ‘almost impressive villain’?”

“All good word choices,” he said, distractedly. There was a soft click, and the door swung inward on oiled hinges. “But perhaps we’re still giving him too much credit.”

Darcy grinned and pressed a kiss to Phil’s cheek. “Maybe this date’s not unsalvageable,” she said. “I bet we can still catch the late movie if you don’t have to ninja too many bad guys.”

He sighed. “We’re going to have to debrief with the Director.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re no fun.” He arched an eyebrow at her. “All right, all right. You win this time. But we’re going to the all-night diner down the street when we’re done and finish this damn date.”

He smiled. “I’m not arguing.”


	9. darcy/bruce, calming

“Hey Big Guy,” Darcy said, her voice shaky. She took a slow step forward, her arms held out at her sides, palms flat and open; non-threatening. Blood from her scalp wound dripped into her eye, and she blinked to try to clear her vision, unwilling to wipe it away right now. “Big Guy, it’s okay.”

The Hulk had his huge hand wrapped around the last remaining member of the organization that had kidnapped Darcy two days ago, and was slowly squeezing the life out of him. “Man hurt Pretty. Hulk smash man.”

She nodded, swallowing hard, and took another step toward him. “I understand. But I need Bruce now. I need his help.”

The Hulk narrowed his eyes. “Need Hulk. Hulk smash man.”

Darcy took a deep breath, and closed the distance between them. “Hulk, I need Bruce,” she said, trying to keep her voice as even as possible. If she seemed calm, he would calm down too. “Can you let me have Bruce, and Iron Man and Thor can smash the man?”

He considered that for a moment, then nodded. “Thor and Tony smash man. Banner help Pretty.” With that, he casually tossed the man toward Tony and Thor, who screamed as he flew the air like a rag doll, and started to shrink. The tears finally began to fall when Bruce’s arms wrapped around her. “Oh, Darcy, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

She couldn’t say anything, just clung to him and sobbed.


	10. clint/darcy, strip poker

Darcy smirked and laid down her two cards: the Ace of Spades and the Jack of Hearts. “Two pair, aces and eights, with a jack kicker,” she crowed.

Clint sighed. “Oh, that’s a real shame. Because you see,” he said as he laid down his cards--a pair of fours--, “I have a boat.”

“You went all in with pocket fours?” she cried. “Pocket _fours_? You had jack shit until the river, you...” She trailed off and glared.

He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head and flexing the muscles in his bare chest distractingly. “Are you going to pay up, Lewis, or am I going to have to call you a welcher?”

She huffed angrily and took a long swig of her beer before she nodded sharply. “Oh, see your little plan is about to backfire horribly, Barton.” She crossed her arms in front of her and stripped off her tee-shirt in one smooth motion, exposing her black, lacy bra. “Because I have a feeling you’re going to be a little less able to focus on the game now.”

He grinned at her. “Worth it.”


	11. natasha romanov, words

Names are just words, but words have power. Natalia Alianovna Romanova, alias Natasha Romanoff, alias Black Widow, knows that better than most. It was the first thing they took from her in the Red Room, so long ago that she no longer remembers if she was truly born Natalia or not, when they sought to take a child and mold her into a killer.

But now she is Natasha, the Black Widow, a name she claimed for herself in blood and pain and death. She is what she made herself, built brick by brick from the rubble left by the Red Room’s broken dreams. She is Natasha, and though it is only a name, it is her name, and she will never let anyone take it from her again.


	12. clint/darcy, violence

“Son of a bitch, Barton, that _hurt_!” Darcy backed away, rubbing her upper arm, where she hadn’t dodged Clint’s kick fast enough. “It’s going to bruise, too.”

Clint threw his arms in the air. “Come on, Darcy, you have to at least try. Some asshole trying to snatch you off the street isn’t going to give you a minute to think about how to block or punch; it has to be instinctive.”

She huffed in frustration. “Fine. But when this is over, I want a reward.”

He frowned. “Reward?”

She let a smirk spread across her face. “Mmm, yeah. A massage for my aching muscles, a hot bath with a glass of wine, and a night in bed with my hot boyfriend.”

Clint feigned surprise. “You have a hot boyfriend and you didn’t tell me? Are you seeing him Wednesdays and alternate weekends? When do I get to meet him?”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Come, on, buster, hit me with your best shot, and then we’ll see about this ‘hot boyfriend’ business.”


	13. tony as darcy's older brother

“Stark!”

Tony winced as Darcy’s voice echoed through his workshop. “I knew I shouldn’t have given her the override codes,” he said to DUM-E. The robot nodded sagely, but as soon as Darcy rounded the corner, he chirped a happy greeting. “Traitor,” he muttered. “Get back over here and hold this.” He spun around in his chair and plastered a smile on his face. “Lewis, so good to see you.”

“I can’t believe you,” she said, waving her finger at him. “The fucking _audacity_!”

He arched his eyebrows. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She set her jaw and glared. “Bullshit. You scared him off.”

Tony spread his hands to the side. “I am not a scary person. Now Fury, Natasha, those are scary people. I am warm and cuddly.”

“What the fuck was so wrong with Seth? He’d fucking traumatized by whatever you said to him, Tony,” she said. “He’s going into _therapy_. Something you should look into.”

“Lewis... Darcy.” Tony took a breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I never had a little sister. Not that I’d wish my parents on anyone else, but... I didn’t want to see you get hurt. And Seth, well,” he shrugged, “Seth was a douchebag.”

She glared at him for another minute, then sighed. “Yeah, he kinda was a douchebag,” she conceded. “But you’re not allowed to give the shovel talk to any of my dates, ever, EVER again, understand?”

Tony grinned. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”


	14. bruce/darcy/loki, movie nights

“I still do not understand why--”

“Ah, ah, ah!” Darcy interrupted Loki with a wagging finger. “Shut it. As your SHIELD-issued babysitter, I don’t care what your objections are, we are watching a movie. A movie I picked out, and you will sit there and at least pretend to enjoy it.”

Loki crossed his arms and sunk back into the couch. “You are extremely stubborn, for a mortal,” he muttered.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said with a smile.

From the other side of the room, Bruce snorted out a laugh. Loki shot him a venomous glare. “Something funny, Banner?”

He shook his head, still smirking. “Oh, nothing. What movie are you watching, Darcy?”

“One of my favorites,” she said, clapping her hands for emphasis. “The King and I! With Yul Brenner,” she added, sighing dreamily. “He made bald hot, you know.”

“Mmm, I remember one of my undergrad TAs telling how he got sent home from school for shaving his head after watching The Magnificent Seven.” 

“Also an excellent movie,” Darcy said as she settled herself back onto the couch on the opposite side of the couch from Loki, who was still glaring in Bruce’s direction. She snapped her fingers, and his gaze fastened on her. She pointed at the television. “Movie time, jailbird,” she said.

Loki grumbled and slouched even further into the couch.


	15. darcy/jake jensen (the losers), soccer game

“Go Daisies! Come on, Susie, knock her on her ah-- on her tush!”

Jensen glared at the petite woman sitting two rows down. She’d been cheering very loudly and obnoxiously against the Petunias for most of two quarters, and even his big mouth wasn’t enough to overpower her. “Go Petunias! Don’t listen to the mean lady, girls, you got this!”

The mouthy brunette turned around and stuck her tongue out at him before spinning around and cheering twice as loud.

Next to him, Cougar smirked, which, for Cougar, was practically a full-on belly laugh. “What? What’s so damn funny?” Cougar shook his head, but didn’t answer.

When the ref blew the whistle for half time, the brunette bounced off the bleachers and rushed over to the Daisies’ bench. Jensen leaned over to Cougar. “You think she’s a mom? She doesn’t look old enough to have a kid that old. Not unless she started really young. But that’s cool, I like kids. You think she’d go out with me? Though I don’t know if I could date someone who roots against the Petunias. Conflict of interest.”

Cougar arched an eyebrow at him.

Jensen held his hands up and shrugged. “Yeah, yeah, don’t look at me like that.”

The whistle for the beginning of the third quarter sounded, and the hot girl was back. For the rest of the game, they traded cheers and insults, getting more and more heated. Finally, when the Daisies scored with a minute left, breaking a tie, Jensen jumped up, screaming, “Come on!”

“What? That was a good goal!”

“That was bullshit,” he retorted, pointing angrily at the ref, who was calling the game, and lining the girls up to shake hands. The rest of the parents and spectators were filing out, pointedly not looking at either of them.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a sore loser. The Petunias are the worst team in the league,” she taunted.

“You shut your mouth,” he warned. “I am not afraid to hit a girl!”

She smirked. “Make. Me.”

“Oh, I’ll make you, all right,” he bounded down the two levels and sat next to her, getting right up in her face. “Take it back.”

“Take it back, really?” She rolled her eyes and licked her really pretty red lips. “I repeat: Make. Me,” she said, slowly enunciating each word.

“I’m Jensen,” he murmured, his gaze entranced by her lips.

She grinned. “Darcy. Now, are you going to make me, or are you going to take me out to dinner first?”

Jensen swallowed. “Yes. Yes, the answer is yes.”

Darcy laughed. “Oh, lordy, you’re going to be fun.”


	16. howard stark/darcy lewis, flirting

“Well hello there. What’s a pretty dame like you doing sitting all alone?”

Darcy stifled her sigh and turned around to face the man, a smile plastered on her face. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him. “Waiting for someone,” she replied smoothly.

He settled himself on the bar stool next to her. “Can I keep you company while you wait?”

She let her smile fade a bit, and her voice hardened. “Apparently I can’t stop you.”

Undeterred, the man signaled for the barkeep. “Bourbon, rocks, and for the lady?”

“I’m good, thank you.”

He grinned at the bartender. “And a daiquiri for my friend.”

Darcy reminded herself that she was not in her time, and here it wasn’t appropriate for a woman to punch a man for being too forward, let alone tase him with a weapon that wouldn’t be invented for decades. She accepted the cocktail with a nod, but didn’t take a sip.

“I”m Howard,” the man said, tipping his glass toward her.

Well, shit. “Howard Stark?” she asked, her voice sharp.

He frowned. “Yes. Do I know you?”

“No, but I know your son.” As Howard opened his mouth to object--Tony hadn’t been born yet, she reminded herself--she waved her hand to shush him. “And I have a message for you from the future.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A daiquiri, in this context, is not the sugary, blended drink most of us think of when we hear that word. In the 30s & 40s, a [daiquiri](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daiquiri) was basically a rum martini, and served, chilled, in a cocktail glass.


	17. clint/darcy, bruises

Darcy's breath was warm as it ghosted over his skin, her lips just barely touching the multi-colored bruises that had blossomed overnight. Clint sucked in a shuddering breath as she pressed a soft kiss to the tender tissue over his ribcage before licking a trail down to his hipbone. "I wish you were more careful," she whispered.

"Ah, but then I wouldn't get to have you fuss over me," he said, then gasped as her tongue darted out to tease the head of his half-hard cock. "And I like it when you fuss over me."

Darcy glared up at him. "I need to stop rewarding your reckless behavior," she muttered.

Clint propped himself up on his good arm and pouted. "But then I wouldn't get any rewards."

She rolled her eyes and slapped one of the larger bruises hard enough to sting. He whimpered and fell back onto the bed.


	18. darcy/steve, legs

When Steve is bored, he doodles. He's idly sketching in the SHIELD cafeteria when Darcy sits across from him. "What are you drawing?"

"Oh nothing, really," he hedges, moving to cover the paper with his forearm.

She smirks. "If it's nothing, why are you embarrassed by it?"

He's blushing, and he knows it. "I'm not," he lies, badly. She arches a brow at him, and he finally gives in with a long-suffering sigh. There's no use arguing with Darcy when she's determined; he learned that within a week of meeting her. He slides the sketch pad across the table. "Don't laugh," he warns.

She spins it so its right-side up and stares at the figure of a dark-haired woman looking backward over her shoulder. Her ankles are crossed coquettishly and she's wearing short shorts that highlight the long lines of her legs. Steve is embarrassed to admit bears more than a passing resemblance to Darcy, and hopes she doesn't notice.

"It's good," she says after a moment, looking up at him with a twinkle in her eye, "but my legs aren't quite that long. I would be happy to sit for you so you can get it right," she adds with a wink.

Steve swallows hard at the thought of Darcy done up like a pin-up girl, leaning back on a sofa while he sketches her, and nods.


	19. bruce/darcy, bruce meets darcy's friends for the first time

Darcy's high-pitched squeal echoed around the lab, and Bruce had take several deep breaths to keep the Other Guy in check. They'd only been dating a few months, but already, the thought of her in pain or scared tended to bring out the big and green in him. When he was sure he had the Other Guy under control, he slowly walked toward the entrance of the lab, where Darcy and another woman about her age were talking animatedly.

The woman was extremely tall, a couple inches over six feet at least, her toned body and pants suit a distinct contrast to Darcy, in her lab coat and jeans. Her blonde hair was pulled back in an elegant ponytail and she wore just a hint of makeup. Still, the way they were bouncing and flailing their hands around was so similar, they looked almost like sisters.

"Bruce!" Darcy turned around, just as he was about to go back to his work and give them some privacy. She bounced across the room and grabbed his hand, tugging him forward. "I want you to meet my best friend from college, Cori. Cori, this is Dr. Bruce Banner, world-renowned physicist, and more importantly," she added, leaning in to kiss his cheek, "my boyfriend."

Cori smiled and offered him her hand. "It's very nice to meet you, Dr. Banner. Darcy has told me a lot about you."


	20. bruce/darcy, abandoned mental hospital

"That... sounds like a terrible idea," Bruce said, making a face. "For me especially, but also in general."

Darcy wrinkled her nose at him and took the flyer out of his hand. "Haunted houses are a mainstay of Halloween, Bruce, and look! This one is in an old insane asylum!"

"Which is where you should be if you think that a man who turns big, green, and destructive when he's upset should go to a place where you pay to be scared," he pointed out.

She huffed out an annoyed sigh. "Well, we can at least watch some scary movies?" she asked, hopefully. "The good, old ones, not the gore porn shit they're making now."

Bruce smirked. "Let's compromise. _Shaun of the Dead_?"

After a long moment, Darcy nodded. "But then we're watching _Halloween_."


	21. clint & tony, rocket boots

Clint slapped a sheet of graph paper down on top of Tony's StarkPad, interrupting his work. "What the hell is this, Barton?"

Clint grinned. "Take a look, tell me what you think."

Tony frowned and looked at the poorly-drawn schematics. "You know shoes are more Pepper's department than mine."

Clint rolled his eyes. "They're not shoes, they're boots. Rocket boots," he said gleefully.

Tony blinked slowly, then narrowed his eyes at the plans. "Rocket boots, huh."

He nodded slowly. "Rocket boots," Clint said.

Tony pursed his lips. "You're going to need stabilizers too. Let's see if we can make some that won't screw with your aim."

Clint grinned.


	22. nick fury meets cassie & nick (push)

Cassie smiled at the man as he slid into the other side of the booth. "Hello, Nick."

"Miss Holmes," he replied, his tone amused. "My people have been looking for you for quite a long time."

She shrugged and took a long drink of her milkshake. "My friend and I have a lot of experience hiding from government agents."

"Yet you let me find you." She met his single eye, surprised, and he smirked. "You think we didn't notice how your pattern changed as we closed in? You need this meeting as much as I do." He paused and nodded his head to where Nick--her Nick--was sitting at the bar, pretending not to listen. "Both of you do."

Cassie rolled her eyes. "I told you it wouldn't work, but you never listen to me," she said.

"It was worth a shot," he grumbled, and walked over to settle in next to her.

Cassie leaned over and gave Fury a conspiratorial smile. "It's like he forgets that I'm psychic sometimes, tries to do it his way. Very annoying."

"I know the feeling." He signaled for the waitress, who dropped off three menus. "Now, about your mother."


	23. darcy/nick gant (push)

The casino--and Darcy used the word extremely loosely; 'gambling den' was probably more accurate--was packed with all sorts of shady-looking characters. She'd dug the heel of her stilettos into the toes of more than one drunk, handsy gambler while she circled the room looking for her target. She found him near the back, playing roulette with a cigar in one hand, a shot glass in the other, and girl who looks like she could be his daughter sitting in his lap.

Piotr Karakoff was a trafficker of anything and everything--legal and illegal drugs, weapons, people--but he had a particular weakness for young, busty brunettes. His predilection was the main reason Darcy had been sent on this op, even though she still had three months of training left before she reached probationary agent status. But Karakoff didn't often come state-side, and his appearance in New York the day before had left SHIELD scrambling for the appropriate bait. So Darcy was it.

She knew there were about fifteen fully-trained and fully-armed SHIELD agents stationed around the room, but it was still difficult to screw up her courage to walk up to the table and take the empty seat between Karakoff and a scruffy younger man. She ignored them both and slid a stack of bills toward the dealer in exchange for chips. "Changing ten," he said, and she nodded, accepting her ten thousand dollars worth of green chips.

Karakoff leaned over to her and smiled. "You like a drink?" he asked, in heavily-accented English.

Having read his file, it was difficult for her not to react with disgust, but she just cocked her head and gave him a blank face. "No," she answered, and turned back to place her bets.

The man on her left, at the seat closest to the wheel, snorted.

"You think is funny?" Karakoff growled, his cheeks reddening with anger. The girl in his lap squeaked as he squeezed her arm.

The man shrugged, and Darcy angled her head so she could study him without being too obvious--something she'd learned in her SHIELD training. She wasn't quite able completely hide her shock when she got a good look at his face; he could easily pass for Captain America's twin. His hair was several shades darker, and the facial hair was obviously different, but they had the same strong bone structure and jawline. It was eerie, and Darcy had a churning feeling in the pit of her stomach as she thought of all the horrible things that governmental agencies might have gotten up to with all the blood and tissue samples they had of Steve's over the past seven decades.

"No more bets," the dealer crooned, waving his hands over the table.

Darcy sat there for the better part of two hours, alternating between ignoring Karakoff and flirting with him just enough to keep him interested. The man on her left--Nick--had won more often than he'd lost, and she wasn't the only one who'd noticed. The pit boss, or whatever they called the burly man in the suit in a place that wasn't really a proper casino, was taking a hard look at Nick and his pile of chips. 

As he started toward their table, Karakoff's half-empty bottle of vodka tipped over into his lap, seemingly of its own volition, and the drunk mobster, who had lost nearly a hundred grand in the time Darcy had been sitting next to him, decided to take offense at the table. He jumped up with an angry roar that had her diving for cover as he flipped the table and jumped across to strangle the dealer. Nick grinned at her, and in the confusion, swept several stacks of cash into a nylon bag he pulled from his pocket. Darcy watched him duck the security goons and SHIELD agents who rushed to subdue Karakoff, throwing punches that seemed too strong for his frame, and disappear out the back door.

After the debrief, she went home and was sliding out of her jeans when she felt the sharp edges of a business card in her pocket. She frowned, and pulled it out, rolling her eyes when she saw a phone number with a hastily written 'Call me. -Nick' on the back. She set it down on her dresser and stared at it.

"What the hell," she muttered, and picked up her phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I waffled over posting this here, as I have a vague idea of expanding it into a larger crossover. Just FYI.


	24. bruce/darcy, muppets

"Wait, stop, stop!" Bruce paused, with his thumb hovering over the 'channel up' button and turned to Darcy, who was on the other side of the common room. "Oh, man, best Christmas movie ever! Leave it there, I'll be right over."

"Uh, okay," he mumbled.

Five minutes later she plopped down next to him on the couch and passed him a bowl of popcorn while relieving him of the remote. "You've seen this one, right?" she asked with a big grin.

"Um, no," he offered, almost apologetically.

"Oh, Doc, you are in for a treat. I mean, it's based on A Christmas Carol, but, with muppets!" She settled in closer, her thigh warm against his own. "Lots of Christmas spirit."


	25. clint/natasha, squirrel

The fall afternoon was cool, but not yet cold, though there was a tinge of snow in the air. Squirrels chased one another up and down the trees that surrounded the cabin, chattering loudly as they stocked up for winter, and high in the trees, birds chirped and sang.

Natasha tensed as soft footsteps sounded behind her. She looked up to see Clint holding two mugs in his hands. "Cider?" he asked, before setting the porch swing into motion as he settled down next to her.

She took the mug and thanked him, cradling it in her hands to warm them. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he took a long drink; only then did she sip at hers. Clint didn't take offense, instead he smirked and leaned in to press a soft kiss to her hair. "You know if I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't use poison," he said.

Natasha took another drink, letting the sweet, spiced liquid fill her senses. "I thought I taught you better than that," she countered after she swallowed. "Use any advantage your opponent allows you."

"This is why you're my favorite, Nat," he laughed, and flung his arm over the back of the swing, close to her opposite shoulder, but giving her enough space that she didn't feel trapped. 

She felt a hint of blush color her cheeks, and smiled to herself.


	26. darcy & steve, touchy-feely roommates

Steve looked up when the door slammed open, breaking the silence in the apartment. Darcy flounced into the room, dropping her bag on the floor just inside the door before flopping heavily onto the couch. She kicked off her heels and propped her feet up in his lap, toeing aside his StarkPad gently. "Oh. My. God. Steve, that was the worst day ever."

He chuckled and cradled one of her stockinged feet in his hands. "Don't you think that's a little dramatic?"

She groaned and her eyes fluttered close as Steve began massaging the ball of her foot. "Oh, God, Steve, you have magic hands, really," Darcy purred and arched her back. He forced himself to look away from the unintentionally erotic sight and paused his massage.. "No, keep going," she said. "Stark and Fury had another knock-down drag-out over something or other--I quit keeping track--and Bruce had to leave to keep from Hulking out. By the end of the day I wanted to kill someone, and then I missed my train. So. Worst day ever."

He sighed and switched to her other foot. "So, movie night," he offered.

She nodded, a small smile playing about her lips. "Yeah, I'm in the mood for banter and murder. _The Thin Man_?"

"I think it's still on the DVR," he said, and reached for the remote.


	27. clint/coulson, drinking game

A loud bang caused Coulson to sigh heavily and set down his pen. A full bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey was now sitting on top of Stark's A-3729 form (the third one this month). "Absolutely not, Barton," he said, firmly.

"Absolutely yes," Clint retorted. "This is the third week in a row you've skipped out on me, and I'm not letting you get away with it again."

Coulson scrubbed his hand over his face. "Clint, I have to get this done--"

"We'll make a game of it," Clint said, voice cajoling. "Every time you finish a form, we take a shot."

Coulson glanced at his inbox, which was close to empty, then back to Clint. "Fine," he agreed, and rolled his eyes at Clint's little victory dance. "But I'm not carrying you back to your room if you pass out."


	28. bruce/darcy, darcy "on" serenity

"Ta-da!" Darcy spun the rainbow parasol on her shoulder and twirled around, showing off her green coveralls and blue, embroidered jacket. "How do I look?"

Bruce grinned. "You'll be the best Kaylee there," he said. He glanced down at his own tweed jacket and red bowtie. "Me, on the other hand--"

She rolled her eyes and stepped close to give him a quick kiss. "We all know Kaylee has a thing for doctors; I think they'll figure it out." She patted the front pocket of his jacket. "Plus the sonic screwdriver, kind of a dead giveaway."

Bruce wrapped his arms around her waist. " _Allons-y_ ," he murmured, then kissed her again.

When she broke the kiss, she was giggling. "Wrong Doctor."


	29. darcy/clint, dracula

"I am going to kill you!"

Clint yawned and blinked sleepily at the rectangle of light that was the open bathroom door. "What'd I do this time?" he slurred, only half-awake.

Darcy poked her head around the door frame and glared at him. "I look like freakin' Dracula attacked my neck, Clint. I'm going to have to wear turtlenecks for a week!"

He let a slow grin spread across his face. "I like you in turtlenecks," he said.

She threw a pillow at him, and he batted it away lazily. "And Stark is going to tease me relentlessly. Fuck," she muttered, and ducked back into the bathroom.

"Badge of honor, babe! Badge of honor."


	30. steve/darcy/bucky, darcy & bucky being bros

"So, wait, wait, wait," Darcy said, waving her hands in the air. "You're telling me that Steve Rogers, Mr. Truth, Justice, and the American Way, _lied_?"

"Oh, baby," Bucky replied, his voice dropping to the almost-seductive tone he used to get Steve to go along with whatever harebrained scheme he'd cooked up as children, "our little Stevie was the best damn actor you ever saw. I could tell you stories for _days_ about the trouble we got into when we were kids, and then in the army."

Steve sighed. "Don't you mean the trouble _you_ got into, that I had to get you _out of_?"

Bucky smirked at him. "Well, that's your recollection."


	31. steve & thor, being buddies

Thor frowned at the television. "I do not understand. These males exhibit all the worst traits of my people, such as a quick temper and love of good mead, yet none of the good, such as wisdom and a respect for women, yet here on Midgard, they are lauded as heroes?"

Steve winced as one of the women on the screen screamed at one of the men--Sammie and Ronnie, he thought. "I don't understand it either, Thor."

"And how does that one," he asked, pointing, "keep his hair in such an unnatural style? It is like a warhelm!"

"I don't know, buddy. I really, really don't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Steve & Thor are watching "Jersey Shore." Yes, Darcy made them. Yes, Darcy is evil.


	32. clint/darcy/steve, batman

"Dude, Steve, you have to do it."

Steve rubbed the back of his neck and stared dubiously at the costume. "And, um, why exactly do I have to be Batman?"

Darcy looked over at Clint and rolled her eyes. "Seriously, what is wrong with this guy? It's not like we're making him go as Conan the Barbarian, all shirtless and oiled up..." She trailed off with a dreamy sigh.

Clint snapped his fingers in front of Darcy's face. "Hey, Darce, wake up!"

"Sorry, just had a mental image of Cap as Conan-era Arnold. You've definitely got the muscles. Anyway," she continued, "you have to be Batman, because Clint, with the circus background, is obviously Dick Grayson, aka Robin. And I do not have the requisite hunger for justice--"

"--or the figure," Clint butted in, leering at her chest."

"--or the figure," she admitted, "to pull off Bruce Wayne."

"And who are you going to be, then?" Steve asked.

"Your sexy arch-nemesis, Selina Kyle, aka Catwoman," she said with a wicked grin. "Gonna use your handcuffs on me, Batsy?"


	33. Tony Stark's Annual Epic Halloween Bash 2012

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from the previous chapter (clint/darcy/steve, batman)

Tony Stark’s Annual Epic Halloween Bash was being held in the newly-rebuilt Stark Tower this October. In previous years, Pepper and her virtual army of party planners and assistants had rented out a ballroom in a downtown hotel and decorated it to within an inch of its life, all for the enjoyment of Manhattan’s social elite. This year, however, with the Chitauri attack only a few months past and a city still healing, they held a more intimate gathering in their home, for just a handful of close friends and associates.

That’s not to say it was any less elaborate, of course. Darcy, Clint, and Steve’s arrival as Catwoman, Robin, and Batman, respectively, barely garnered any attention in the face of all the other costumes Stark Industries & SHIELD personnel had put together. Thor and Jane were dressed as Tarzan and Jane—or rather, Thor was as undressed as he was socially allowed, and Jane was wearing the yellow dress from the Disney movie.

Coulson was, surprisingly, not wearing either a suit or his Captain America costume (Darcy knew he had one, even if he wouldn’t admit it), but rather a pair of tight black dress pants, a black button-down shirt and a rugged black leather jacket. Even with the lovely woman standing next to him in a pale 60’s-era dress, she would never have guessed his costume until Clint leaned in and murmured, “No one puts Baby in a corner.”

She turned to him with wide eyes. “No. Way.”

Clint nodded. “Yeah, Jen tried to get him to do it last year—apparently it’s her favorite movie—”

“She’s the cellist?” Darcy interrupted.

“Yeah, yeah, but Coulson wouldn’t go for it.”

Steve frowned. “Who are they supposed to be?”

Darcy sighed. “Oh, Steve, I need to make you watch Dirty Dancing. It’s moving up in the queue.”

Standing next to Nick Fury, smiling for once, Maria Hill looked like a reject from an 80s pop band, with a big bow in her hair and a bedazzled jean jacket. Fury himself, sadly, was not dressed as a pirate, though the mullet-esque wig almost made up for Darcy losing that particular betting pool. “Hey, Jarvis, did anyone put money on Snake Plissken?”

“I did,” Natasha answered for the AI, coming up behind Darcy soundlessly in the ballet shoes that matched her pink tutu. “You need to think outside the box with the director,” she said. “He hates to do the expected.”

“Well, everyone else did pretty much what I expected,” Darcy said with a pout. “Though I rather thought Tony would convince Bruce to be the Chewie to his Han, rather than Luke Skywalker.”

Pepper, a drink in each hand and a replica blaster slung over the shoulder of her very impressive Princess Leia costume, grinned as she handed Darcy a glass of champagne. “He tried, oh, he tried. But Bruce put his foot down about being a giant monster at all Avengers-related events. Then Tony suggested Yoda, and, well.” Pepper smirked, her massive side-buns moving only slightly. “You can imagine how well that went over.”

Darcy giggled and leaned into Steve, who was waving across the room at someone Darcy couldn’t see. “Who’s that?”

“Colonel Rhodes is here,” he said, sounding more excited than he had since she and Clint had pounced on him with their Batfamily costumes.

“Ooh! Who’s Rhodey dressed as?” she said, bouncing on the balls of her feet to try to get a better look.

“I can’t believe you, Rhodey!” Tony yelled. “We are not Brenda and Kelly, damn it!”

“Well, that answers that question,” Darcy muttered to Natasha, who hid her grin behind her vodka tonic as Han Solo met Han Solo. Steve still looked confused.

“Hey, I’m the fly-boy in this relationship,” Rhodey said. “I really could pilot the Millennium Falcon. You’d be the dirty mechanic keeping her together.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at Rhodey’s costume, which looked almost identical to his own. “So if I gave you $5000, would you go change?”

Rhodey smirked. “Not a chance in the world, especially since I rock this harder than you do.” He turned to Pepper. “Pepper, you look lovely, as always.”

“Oh, man, this is going to be great,” Darcy said with a giggle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cast of characters:
> 
> Nick Fury - Snake Plissken from Escape from New York  
> Maria Hill - Robin Sparkles aka Robin Scherbatsky’s pop star alter-ego from HIMYM  
> Phil Coulson - Johnny Castle from Dirty Dancing (with a special appearance from Clark Gregg’s real life wife Jennifer Grey as the cellist aka Baby Houseman)  
> Natasha - a ballerina  
> Thor - Tarzan  
> Jane - Jane Porter (the Disney version)  
> Clint - Dick Grayson aka Robin  
> Steve - Bruce Wayne aka Batman  
> Darcy - Selina Kyle aka Catwoman  
> Bruce - Luke Skywalker  
> Pepper - Princess Leia  
> Tony - Han Solo  
> Rhodey - ALSO Han Solo


	34. bruce/darcy, highschool

"Hello there, Mr. Banner," Darcy purred, her voice low and sultry. It startled Bruce a little, the Other Guy banging against the bars of his cage as Bruce shuffled the papers on his desk to buy himself some time to get him under control. He was very happy with that decision when he looked up and took in Darcy's attire, because the animalistic roar in the back of his head made it hard to concentrate on anything but his girlfriend.

Darcy was wearing a white oxford shirt--one of his, he thought--tied off just under her generous bosom to expose her soft, pale stomach, and a pair of green suspenders. Her green and blue plaid skirt could only be called such by the most generous, since it was short enough that with each slow step she took toward his desk, Bruce caught a flash of white panty. She'd done her hair up in pigtails high on either side of her head, and she looked like a highschooler's wet dream come to life with her glasses and red lipstick. He swallowed hard as his dick twitched in his khakis. "Darcy," he said, voice cracking on her name.

She licked her lips and grinned, continuing her slow, stalking glide toward him. "Mr. Banner, I'd like to see if there was any, um, _extra credit_ projects I could do to, um, _raise_ my grade?"


	35. clint/coulson, next-door neighbor AU

It's not that Phil is fussy. He's really not. His house is clean because it was drilled into him in the Army that knowing where your things are at all times can be the difference between life and death, and that has only been reinforced in his time at SHIELD. He does his paperwork as soon after missions as possible because that's when details are freshest in his mind, and any tiny thing can be important in his line of work. His designer suits are always clean and pressed because it completes his harmless, forgettable, office flunky image that is a better disguise than any of the camo he wore in the Rangers.

But when it comes to his yard, Phil will admit he's a bit of a perfectionist. It's his sanctuary, the place he goes to when he's worn out from dealing with idiotic probationary agents, world-ending disasters, and alien invasions.

So, when he comes home to find a messy hole under the fence between his new neighbor's yard and his own, and said new neighbor's mongrel dog rolling around happily in Phil's delphiniums, Phil feels his anger is completely deserved.

The dog is all too happy to follow Phil as he marches up to his neighbor's front door, sniffing around at his heels, his single eye full of joy. Even as pissed as he is, Phil can't help but be a little charmed by the way the dog sits patiently next to him after Phil rings the doorbell.

"Just a minute!" someone inside yells. Something crashes inside, followed by a string of curses. Phil can't quite stifle his smile as the dog barks worriedly. Finally, the door flies open, framing the new occupant of the house.

The man is, simply put, gorgeous. He's wearing a pair of worn blue jeans that ride low on his slim hips, and no shirt, showing off his muscular chest and fantastic biceps. Phil forces himself to look up at his face before he makes a fool of himself. "I found your dog," he offers lamely, waving his hand at the mongrel.

"Oh, thank god," the man says, dropping to his knees and holding his arms out. "Pizza, what the hell?" The dog yaps happily and rushes at him, wagging his ragged tail. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize he'd gotten out. I had the tablesaw going in the back," he said, looking up at Phil from his place on the floor. "Thanks for bringing him back." He stands, keeping one hand on the dog's collar, and offers the other to Phil. "I'm Clint Barton. I'm guessing I'm your new neighbor."

Phil takes his hand, noting its strength and the gun callouses on his fingers. He smiles. "Phil Coulson."


	36. steve/darcy/bucky, anniversary

Bucky hears her come in the apartment--of course he does, he'd be a pretty shitty spy if he didn't--but doesn't turn. He's sitting on the sofa, watching the fat, wet snowflakes fall through the floor-to-ceiling windows Stark insists are bulletproof and Bucky can't bear to cover up, even though they are a huge security risk. It doesn't take long for Darcy to settle herself next to him. He can smell her perfume, a very light floral scent that he bought her for Christmas, as she wriggles around until she can slide one leg behind him and wrap his upper body with her arms. She leans her face against his shoulder, cheek warm through his shirt, and doesn't speak, just sits and holds him.

By the time Steve comes in, Darcy's asleep, her even breathing lulling Bucky into something approaching peace. Steve smiles at him and quirks a questioning eyebrow. Bucky can't help but give him a small nod, and Steve folds his enormous body against Bucky's other side, barely jostling Darcy as he takes hold of Bucky's metal hand. "You doing okay?" Steve murmurs, pressing his lips softly against Bucky's hair and threading his fingers through Bucky's.

"It's the anniversary of my death, punk," Bucky replies, voice low enough that Darcy doesn't stir. "I'm doing better than most people in my position."

Steve lets out a soft chuckle. "Touche."


	37. clint/natasha, handcuffed together

"My wrists hurt."

Natasha craned her head around--no mean feat since the two of them were handcuffed back-to-back on both sides--and gave Clint the Look. (Clint got the Look a lot, usually when Natasha was doing her best not to smack him upside the head. He got the Look from Coulson too, but Coulson's Look was slightly scarier, since he had the ability to make Clint do--shudder--paperwork.) "We're supposed to be helpless American tourists, Clint."

Clint wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, well, I hate cuffs. Seriously, give me thirty seconds--"

"No." Clint huffed out a petulant sigh and leaned back against Natasha. "Besides," she added after a moment of silence, "I could do it in twenty seconds, easy."

"I call bullshit on that, Nat."

"Well let's finish this mission, and we'll see, won't we, Robin Hood?"

Clint narrowed his eyes. "You're on."


	38. day at the beach, clint/coulson

Coney Island looked good on Clint, Phil decided. He was wearing a pair of old cargos and a purple t-shirt that was too tight for decency, all topped off by a wide grin. "It's not the circus, Phil, but it's got the same feel," he explained. "Feels like home." He turned to Phil, a mischievous look on his face. "Want me to win you a prize?"

Phil leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Clint's lips. Here, the action didn't even raise an eyebrow. "I have a better idea. You brought your swim trunks, didn't you?"

"Beach?" Clint asked, incredulous. "Agent Coulson! I never expected that from you."

"I have hidden depths, Specialist," Phil said, nudging Clint's shoulder with his own.

"Can't wait to plumb them," Clint said, smirking.

"Pervert."


	39. tony & natasha, road trip

"So... this isn't a set-up? You're not, like, taking me off into the desert to make it easier to hide my body? You actually are proposing a road trip?"

Natasha sighed. "Tony, if I were going to kill you, I would have not have to drag your corpse out into the desert to get away with it."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "Romanoff, if that was meant to be comforting, you failed. You failed miserably."

Natasha grinned, showing all her teeth. "Who said I was being comforting?"

"You know," he said, flapping his hand around, "you and Pepper hooking up is actually kind of terrifying, since she has hundreds of reasons to want to kill me, and you have hundreds of ways to do the deed."

"Only hundreds?" She stepped closer and planted a chaste kiss on Tony's cheek. "Oh, how you underestimate me." She continued walking away, her back to Tony, so he couldn't see her grin.


	40. avengers/firely fusion, clint/coulson

Clint had Vera in hand, an arrow pointed straight at the doc's chest. "You want I should shoot him, Cap?" he asked, not taking his eyes off his target.

Cap and the crew of the American Shield had picked up the doc--Philip Coulson, he said--on Persephone, just two days gone, for a quick milk run to Whitefall. The man was right nice to look at, and Clint had wasted no time tryin' to flirt his way into the passenger bunk with him. Things had been movin' along Clint's way, until Phil had found out that Cap and Maria had fought in the battle of Hydra Valley with General Fury in the great civil war 'tween the Browncoats and the Alliance. Apparently, the doc was a student of military history, and he decided to take every opportunity to ask Steve about it, leaving Clint nursin' a crush and a set of blue balls. His hand was helpful with the latter, but weren't much could make kill the crush.

When he went to ask Tony's advice, their mechanic had laughed at him, asking what kind of use a Core-bred doc would have for a Rim-born merc who was only good for his skill with a bow and gun. Clint had socked him hard in the arm and stalked out, running into Maria on the way. She was more pragmatic. "Ain't much use gettin' involved with passengers, Clint," she'd said. "They just move on and take your heart with 'em."

Rhodey had nodded and wrapped his arm around his wife's waist. "Best find yourself a willing crewmember like I did. Tony's single." Maria had rolled her eyes but dropped a fond kiss to Rhodey's cheek.

"Tony's a dick," Clint retorted and went down to the cargo bay with Vera to shoot arrows at targets until his fingers went numb.

That was where he was when Cap marched down, Phil's shirt collar held tight in his hand, and wearing a furious expression Clint had never seen on Steve's face, not even when Tony had snuck that pretty boy whore into Cap's quarters as a birthday present. Clint swiveled around, taking aim at Phil without a second thought, waiting for his Captain's orders. Maria was high up on the catwalk, her shotgun trained on Phil as well.

"If he moves, Clint, you can shoot him, but hit him in the leg so he can patch himself up," Steve answered. "Now you care to explain why I got Alliance on my tail, Doc? What are you smugglin' so precious they followed us out this far into the black?"

Instead of waiting for an answer, Steve marched over to the doc's luggage, eyeing the large silver cryo-container. Phil stretched out his arm, but at a sharp look from Clint, he shrunk back on himself. "Please," he begged, "don't open it. She--" Phil cut himself off and bit his bottom lip.

"She?" Steve said, his voice low and dangerous. "You bringin' a slave girl on my boat?" He stomped on the cryo-container's lock, the hiss of the broken seal and the screech of metal-on-metal echoing loudly in the cargo bay. Steve kicked lid off and waved away the fog, leaning down to peer into the container. "Huh," he said.

Suddenly, something exploded out of the container with a primal scream. Clint couldn't tell what it was, only that by the time the smoke cleared, Phil was on the floor, arms cradling a naked girl, and Steve was across the cargo bay on his back. Phil murmured soothing words in English, Mandarin, and what sounded like Russian, until the girl stopped screaming. He looked up, meeting Steve's eyes. "She's my sister," he said, voice strong and even. "Her name is Natasha, and she is my sister."


	41. steve/darcy, genderswapped

"So, you want to grab a drink sometime?"

Stephanie looked up from her StarkPad, where she was reading up on the Vietnam War, one of the many she'd missed while in the ice, to see Dr. Foster's lab assistant David standing a foot away. She glanced behind her, trying to figure out who he was talking to, but there was no one else near. "Um, me?" she asked, tapping her chest.

He laughed, but it wasn't the cruel laughter she remembered from the orphanage, when the other kids would tease her about being small and sickly and frail, but still willing to stand up to the bullies. It was something warm, that sparked an answering warmth in her chest. "Yes, you. So... you, me, a couple drinks? No pressure," he added, maybe reading her reticence on her face, shrugging nonchalantly and running a hand through his messy dark curls. "Just a friendly thing."

Stephanie pursed her lips. "Um, okay," she said quickly, before she could overthink it.

He grinned, his blue eyes lighting up behind his glasses. "Excellent. I'll meet you in the lobby at seven?"

She nodded. "Seven."


	42. tony/pepper celebratory kiss

Pepper punched her code into the keypad outside Tony's workshop. "Tony? Tony are you down here?"

"No, Tony's not here, go away," he replied. 

His voice was coming from what looked like a pile of junk, and Pepper rolled her eyes. "Tony, you've been down here for more than 72 hours and I need your signature."

"You can sign it, Pep, I'm in the middle of something-- AH HAH!" he crowed, straightening up and beaming at her. His face was liberally streaked with what she assumed was engine grease and his hair stuck up haphazardly from him repeatedly running his fingers through it. "I did it! Pep, come here, come here," he said, circling the table to grab her arm and drag her bodily to whatever it is that he'd been working on. "Okay, _watch_ ," he said, and flipped a switch.

At his command, seven tiny explosions went off around the room, and Pepper ducked, covering her head with her hands and the leather folder she'd brought down with paperwork for Tony. "Tony!" she yelled, "what was that?"

Tony grinned at her and pulled her in to kiss her soundly on the lips. He pulled back, his maniacal grin still in place, now smeared with her lipstick. "That, Miss Potts, is the preliminary guidance system for a new type of missile, one with multiple detonation sites that will all explode simultaneously. I call it the Jericho Missile."

Pepper pursed her lips. "Don't do that again."

"What?" Tony asked, all faux-innocence. "The kiss or the explosions?"

"Both," she answered sharply. "Now, I need your signature, Mr. Stark."

Tony winked at her and took the pen she was holding out. "Of course, Miss Potts. Anything for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, obviously, pre-Iron Man. :)


	43. steve/darcy/bucky, storm

"You're afraid of thunderstorms?" Steve said, half-incredulous, half-comforting.

Darcy jumped as another cloud clap of thunder shook the Tower, and buried her face more completely into Steve's muscular chest. "No," she lied, her words muffled by his skin, "just... don't like thunder."

Bucky laughed softly, and spooned up behind her, fitting his hips snugly against her ass. "Liar," he said, gently mocking.

"'M from Oklahoma, okay?" she said, turning her head around to glare at him. Bucky took the opportunity to kiss her forehead. "Big thunderstorms can turn into tornadoes like _that_ , and tornadoes..." She shuddered and pressed her face back against Steve. "I'm afraid of tornadoes," she admitted.

"Babe," Bucky said, nuzzling his face into her hair, "we won't let anything happen to you. I promise."

"We'll keep you safe," Steve echoed. "Always."


	44. clint/coulson, secretly married

"Have you been there?"

Clint jumped a little at the sound of Bruce's voice. He hadn't heard him approach, he was so engrossed in the photo. "Um, yeah," he said, suddenly shy. "You took this?"

Bruce smiled and stepped closer. "I went through several supposedly calming habits while I was in hiding. Photography, I found, was less calming than advertised. I could never get quite the shot I was aiming for," he said ruefully.

"It's a lovely picture, though," Clint said, feeling a little uncomfortable. He liked Bruce a lot, but he had definitely just opened up farther than Clint was comfortable with, and it was making Clint's skin itch.

"Not as lovely as it is in person," Bruce countered. "When were you in Thailand?"

"On my honeymoon," he said, letting the word slip out before he realized it.

Bruce arched a questioning eyebrow. "You're married?"

There was an easy out here--Clint had been married once before, to a beautiful woman named Bobbi. He could tell Bruce he was divorced, and wouldn't even be lying, and still keep their secret. But... but. He didn't want Phil to be a secret anymore--and he didn't want to be Phil's secret anymore.

"Yeah," he said, swallowing hard as his fingers traced the edge of the picture frame. His stomach clenched tight, and he took a deep breath. "Me and Coulson... for three years," he murmured, not looking at Bruce.

He heard Bruce's smile in his voice. "You're so good together; I should have guessed."

Clint huffed out a laugh. "I suppose so."


	45. steve/darcy, snowed in

Darcy stared out the window of the cabin at the grey sky. The snow was still falling, thick, wet flakes that stuck to the warm glass, foggy from her breath, and slid down slowly, before plopping onto their fallen brethren on the sill. She reached up, and with her finger, drew a heart in the condensation, smiling softly at the squeak of her skin on the glass.

Steve came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle. His hands were big enough that they could still span her increasing belly, and he rubbed it gently as she leaned back into his solidity and warmth. "We're stuck here for the time being, huh?" he asked, his breath warm against her ear.

"Mm-hmm," she hummed rubbing her cheek against him like a cat. "At least until morning, maybe longer."

"Can I keep you warm tonight, Mrs. Rogers?" he whispered, one hand sliding down to cup her through her yoga pants.

She arched into him as his fingers traced her through the thin fabric. "Oh, yes," she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of many über-fluffy prompts I wrote on Friday 12/14 to counteract the horror that was the shooting in Newtown, CT. :/


	46. steve/darcy/bucky, next-door neighbors AU

"Son of a bi--bad person!" Darcy cursed, stomping her foot on the linoleum of her apartment's kitchen floor. She glanced at the wall clock; it was 10:15pm, which meant the bus that ran to the 24-hour grocery would stop running in 15 minutes, aka not enough time to make it to buy a bag of sugar and back. A cab was an option, but that would cost at least $15, and Darcy was the epitome of broke college student. "And this would all be solved if Mom would have let me have the damn car," she muttered to herself as she ran a floury hand through her hair. "Why did I volunteer to make cookies again?"

Just then, a thump drew her eyes to the ceiling, and she was reminded of the two hot guys that had just moved in upstairs. They'd exchanged quick waves and smiles while they were moving in, but Darcy didn't even know their names. She glanced at her stand mixer, then back at the ceiling, gnawing on her bottom lip. "Everyone has sugar in their kitchen, right? Even really, really ridiculously good-looking college guys who might or might not be gay."

Darcy took a deep breath, steeled her nerves, and grabbed a glass measuring cup and her keys. "Okay, girl, you can do this. Just a cup of sugar," she said as she locked her door and marched up the stairs. "No big deal," she continued. "Just knock and--"

She was cut off when the door opened just as she raised her fist to knock. The man was taller than her, but not what she would call 'tall,' with tousled dark hair and gorgeous blue eyes. The two-day scruff on his face couldn't disguise his kissable lips and the cleft in his chin. She thought he was John or James. "Hi," she offered, feeling super lame. "Can I borrow a cup of sugar?"

He grinned, showing off slightly crooked teeth that somehow made him more attractive for not being so perfect. "Sugar, huh? You got a candid camera somewhere around?" he asked, making a show of peering around her.

"No," Darcy said, arching her eyebrows at him. "I'm in the middle of baking cookies, and ran out of sugar."

He blinked, confused. "Wait, really?"

"Yes, really," she said, unable to hide her sarcasm.

"Huh. Thought that was just a thing that happened in pornos. Come in, come in," he said, backing away and waving her into the apartment when she gawked at him from the hallway. "Hey, Steve!" he called. "Some hot girl wants some sugar!"

James--it was James, she remembered that now--bent over almost double laughing when his statement was met with a squawk of confusion and a thump as someone--presumably Steve--fell. A blond head poked out of the doorway into the hallway close to floor level, and god _damn_ , Steve was even better looking than James. "Buck, what the--oh, hi!" He disappeared back into the room, then reappeared, straightening his teeshirt and blushing. "Um, sorry about Bucky, he's kind of an ass," Steve said, shooting his friend a dirty look. "I'm Steve," he said, offering her a hand.

Darcy tucked her measuring cup under her arm and shook his hand. "Darcy, Darcy Lewis, 3A, just downstairs. So, um, do you guys have sugar? I'm baking cookies for my class tomorrow--"

"Yes, yes we do," James interrupted, nudging Steve out of the way with his hip, and offering her his hand. "James, but the big idiot insists on calling me Bucky, because he's a big idiot," he said. James' hand was warm, and he dragged a calloused finger lightly across her palm when he pulled back. "You want sugar, we have sugar."

Darcy swallowed hard. "I'm sure you do," she said, feeling breathless all of a sudden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a personal experience, tho mine had far less hot neighbors and far more frustration. :)


	47. steve/bucky, people watching

Steve frowned down at his sketchpad, licked his thumb, then used it to smudge the pencil lines, creating better shading. Finally pleased, he turned to Bucky. "What do you think?" he asked, tilting the sketchpad so Bucky could see it better.

Bucky squinted at it. "Why'd you draw that guy? When there's pretty dames all over?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "It's not a _guy_ , Buck, it's the painting," he said, pointing at the portrait in front of them. "Besides, there's not much use in me looking at dames when you're around," he added, a light blush coloring his pale cheeks.

"Any dame that doesn't want you, Rogers, is blind and dumb," Bucky said, his voice sharp and fierce. "You're perfect just the way you are."

"Well then there's an awful lot of blind women in New York," Steve shot back.

Bucky rolled his eyes and threw an arm around Steve's thin shoulders. "Must be. Now, let's go see if we can scrounge up something to eat before I waste away to nothing."


	48. tony & clint, shopping for their significant others (tony/pepper, clint/coulson)

Clint's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he very nearly missed the bullseye. "Damn it," he muttered to himself as he set his bow down and fished it out of his pants. "Barton," he snapped.

"Are you decent?" Stark asked instead of saying 'hello' like a normal fucking person.

"Never," Clint retorted.

"Be in the lobby in five minutes or I'm coming to get you," he said, then hung up with a decisive 'snick.'

Four minutes later, Clint was in the lobby of Stark Tower, eyeing Tony warily. "First of all, how do you get your phone to do that click thing when you hang up? I know for a fact you have a touch screen StarkPhone. And secondly, what the hell, Stark?"

Tony grinned. "I programmed my phone to make that sound so it felt better to hang up on the members of my board. I had to take it off Pepper's line, though; she got pissy. Now get in, loser, we're going shopping."

"You just quoted 'Mean Girls,' yet I'm the one with the boyfriend," Clint said as he followed Tony down to the garage. "How does that make sense?"

"And my fashion sense is about a thousand times better than yours," Tony agreed. "You're the worst gay guy in the history of ever."

"Shut it Stark. Why are we going shopping again?"

He shrugged as he revved the engine and backed out of the spot without looking. "I have it on good authority that you haven't gotten Agent Boyfriend a Christmas present yet," he said, using the nickname he'd given Coulson once he found out about his and Clint's relationship and used gleefully ever since. "And," he continued, pulling into NYC traffic with a level of recklessness that gave even Clint heart palpitations, "after last year's quote-unquote debacle, I am contractually prohibited from shopping for Pepper's Christmas present. I'm required to buy something off a pre-approved list."

Clint blinked as Tony swerved around a bus, narrowly missing a taxicab as he slid the two-seater sportscar back into the lane. "Let me guess," he said slowly, "she didn't contractually prohibit you from _buying_ her something not on the list, but since you can't go shopping _for her_ , you're taking me as an alibi."

"See, I knew Agent Boyfriend wasn't just dating you for your biceps," Tony said. "You get a gold star!"

Clint grinned. This was going to be fun.


	49. steve/bucky, for haipollai

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written as an ask-box ficlet for haipollai on Tumblr.

Steve's dirty and wet and freezing cold from too many nights with not enough changes of clothes when they stumble into camp. Bucky's asleep in their tent, having been sent on a special mission that even Steve isn't supposed to know about. He strips naked, leaving his damp uniform in a pile on the floor, and curls up behind Bucky, who wakes up with a muffled shout. Steve chuckles and nuzzles his ear. "I'm almost hypothermic," he mutters, "you wouldn't kick me out." 

Bucky grumbles but relaxes against Steve as his serum enhanced metabolism starts pumping out heat. "Just keep your feet away from mine," he says, "I'm sensitive." 

Steve rolls his eyes and slings one leg over Bucky's hip. "Liar."


	50. steve/bucky/natasha, for cacchieressa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written as an ask-box ficlet for cacchieressa on Tumblr.

Bucky whimpers as Natasha's cock breaches him, the slim silicone dildo slowly filling him up. He pants against Steve's lips, their breaths mingling as Natasha begins to fuck him, her rhythm slow and steady. "Good?" Steve asks, his fingers carding through Bucky's hair. 

"Good," Bucky answers, biting off a grunt as Natasha's dildo brushes his prostate. 

"Yes, very good," Natasha says, her voice a low, delicious purr. "My good, good boys."


	51. clint/phil, for alykat-kartoons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written as an ask-box ficlet for alykat-kartoons on Tumblr.

"Absolutely not," Phil said.

Clint stuck out his bottom lip theatrically and snuggled the wet and bedraggled kitten under his chin. "But look at her! She's adorable!"

The kitten mewled pitifully, but Phil didn't budge. "No."

"Come on! Last time I tried to bring home a pet, it worked out wonderfully for both of us!"

Phil smirked. "I'm telling Nat you said that."

"You wouldn't," Clint declared, curling himself around the kitten. Phil just grinned.


	52. clint/darcy, for twistedingenue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written as an ask-box ficlet for twistedingenue on Tumblr.

Darcy's moans are like music to his ears as Clint licks and teases and fingers her, until she's crying out his name. He doesn't stop--he won't stop--not until she's a quivering mess on the bed, her leg muscles jelly and her clit too sensitive to touch. "Stop," she whimpers, curling her fingers around his ear, "baby, please."

Clint grins and climbs up Darcy's body, stopping to press wet kisses against her stiff nipples. When he stops with his face close to hers, their lips touching, he smirks. "Whatever you want, baby."


	53. darcy/coulson, collarbone kiss

The ancient intercom on Darcy's desk flared to life in a crackle of static. "Miss Lewis, please see me in my office," Coulson said, voice distorted and vaguely mechanical.

"Be right there." She stood and ran her hands down the back of her skirt to straighten it, before walking the ten feet between her desk and Coulson's door. She knocked, but didn't wait for him to answer before she opened the door and stepping inside.

Coulson sat behind his large oak desk, the two ends of his tie hanging loose. "Miss Lewis, do you know how to tie a full-Windsor knot?" When she nodded, he sighed and signaled her to come closer. "Medical has cleared me to come back to work, but sometimes..." He trailed off and rolled his left shoulder back with a wince.

"Got it," Darcy said, and circled the desk. "Stand up, please, and please don't quote SHIELD's sexual harassment policy at me." Eyebrow arched, Coulson did as she asked. "Turn around," she instructed him, and stepped up behind him, close enough that her chest brushed the back of his fine cotton shirt. "My dad taught me to tie a tie," she explained, popping the collar of his shirt and adjusting the length of the ends. "Of course, I learned to tie it the right way; aka the 'guy way.' I never expected that to be a bad thing."

With her arms arched over her boss's shoulders, Darcy quickly turned the strip of patterned silk into a near-perfect full-Windsor. "Turn," she said, stifling a smile when her unflappable boss did as she asked immediately. She adjusted the position of the knot without meeting his eyes, her low heels putting her gaze almost level with his collar. "There," she said, smoothing the line of his shoulders and patting his chest softly. "All done."

Coulson's lips twisted up into a self-deprecating smile. "Your help is greatly appreciated, Miss Lewis."

Darcy couldn't stop herself from leaning in and pressing a kiss to the fabric covering Coulson's collarbone, far enough to the side that the pink stain from her lipstick would be covered by his suit jacket. "Good luck, boss," she said, edging out of Coulson's reach and hurrying back to her desk.


	54. clint/darcy, forceful kiss

"You _asshole_ ," Darcy yelled, and Clint spun around. She wore a faded Greater Waverly Area Archery Club tee shirt that she'd stolen from him a few months back and a pair of sleep pants whose green plaid clashed horribly with the purple shirt. Her hair stuck up in multiple directions, and the skin under her eyes was dark with sleeplessness. "I swear to god, Clint Barton, if you ever scare me like that again," she continued, stalking down the hallway toward him, "I will dump you so fast your head will spin."

Clint let out a relieved sigh, and grinned at her. "I'm so sorry, babe, it wasn't my fault. Coulson--"

"Yeah, yeah, blame your handler," she spat, cutting him off as she stepped into his space. "I know you too well for that to work," she added, punching him in the arm. He winced; her training sessions with Natasha and Maria were definitely paying off.

Instead of saying anything, though, he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight, dropping a gentle kiss on the top of her head. "I'm sorry, Darcy. I really am."

She squeezed him back. "Yeah, well, just…" Darcy trailed off and pulled back, hooking her arms around his neck to pull him down for a hard kiss. Clint went with it, humming in the back of his throat as she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth. "Don't do it again," she said finally, pressing her forehead to his.

For a second, Clint thought about making a joke, saying that with a welcome like that, how could he not, but instead he just nodded. "I love you, babe."


	55. steve/bucky/nat, domme natasha

"Look at my good boys," Natasha crooned. "Look at how well you follow my orders." 

Steve whined low in his throat, the muscles in his back taut from the strain of keeping still. His cock was buried up to the hilt in Bucky's ass, his fingers digging into his hips, but Natasha had told him not to move, so he wasn't.

She moved in closer, running her fingers lightly across Steve's sweaty shoulder. "Do you want to come, Steve?" He nodded wordlessly, earning a swift, open-handed slap to his shoulderblade. "Answer me," she commanded.

"Yes, mistress, please let me come!"

Natasha hummed happily, then leaned down to Bucky. She traced the shell of his ear with her tongue, earning a shudder. "James, darling, do you think Steve deserves to come?"

She watched his throat work as he swallowed hard, trying to sort through the haze of arousal for the answer she wanted. They would have to work on that, she decided. "You're in charge, mistress," he mumbled.

"Close enough," she whispered. She straightened and covered Steve's hand with her own, lacing their fingers together over Bucky's hips. "Come for me now, boys. Come now!"

She watched as the muscles in Steve's stomach and back tighten as he thrust into Bucky, and the way Bucky crumpled into the bed under the weight of his orgasm. Natasha smiled, petting Steve's shoulder as he rode out his own climax. "Good boys," she murmured. "So good."


	56. clint/coulson, tie kink + blindfold

"Can you see anything?"

Clint turned his head to either side, seeing nothing but darkness through Phil's tie. "No," he admitted.

Phil hummed approvingly. 

Clint tensed, readying himself for, well, whatever Phil wanted to do, but… nothing happened. "Phil?" he asked.

"Just breathe," Phil instructed.

Clint nodded, and slowly, muscle by muscle, relaxed, until he lay on the bed, loose and limber. Finally, Phil began to touch him, starting at his ankles, gun-calloused fingers tracing the curve of his calves, then his thighs, the sensitive skin between his leg and body. Clint whimpered as Phil bypassed his cock in favor of raking his finger through the dark line of hair on his stomach, up to tease his nipples, then the sensitive skin behind his ears. 

It seemed every other sense was exaggerated because of his lack of sight, and even the sound of Phil's breath was erotic. Clint could smell the faint odor of soap and gun oil that always seemed to cling to Phil, and when he leaned in to kiss Clint, he tasted the beer they'd been drinking earlier that night. "Feel good?" Phil asked, running his palms down Clint's biceps.

Clint grinned. "Yeah, you do."


	57. steve/darcy, making out in a coat closet

"In here!" Darcy grabbed his wrist and dragged him down the hall and through a door. 

Steve shut the door behind them, leaving them in near-total darkness. "Where are we?" he asked, blindly reaching for Darcy's other hand.

"Who cares," she said, sliding her hands up the lapels of his tuxedo jacket to hook around his neck, "as long as it's private." She tugged his face down for a kiss, missing his mouth on the first try, but quickly correcting her course. 

Steve grinned into her mouth and ran his hands down her curves to cup her ass, squeezing just hard enough to make her squeal. "And why are you so eager for privacy?" he asked, in between kisses that were steadily growing more intense.

"You're a jerk," she muttered, threading her fingers through his hair as he ducked down to lick and nip at her neck. He wedged his knee between her thighs, the loose fabric of her formal gown's skirt making it easy. Darcy whimpered and bucked against him as he bit down on the generous curve of on breast. "No marks," she breathed. "Senators' wives already hate me."

Steve laughed and soothed the small hurt with his tongue. "Not until later, I promise."


	58. steve/bucky/nat, first time threesome

"Steve, jesus, what do you eat, nails? You're squishing me."

"Sorry, Buck, I just--"

"Here, boys, let's do this--"

"Ah, whoa, Nat, not all of us are crazy flexible. I can't bend that way!"

"James."

"Yeah, okay, how about--"

"This is a lot harder than it looks."

"Looks? You been watching Stark's video collection for ideas?" … "Oh my god, you have!"

"Shut up, Bucky, it's not like I have a lot experience with this sort of thing."

"And you two are supposed to be tacticians. God save us all."


	59. Elektra/Karen, things you didn't say at all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For nyreenskandros on tumblr.

Elektra never feels guilt. It's not in her nature. She didn't feel it the first time she killed a man, and she hasn't felt bad about any death she's caused since.

So why does she want to apologize to Matthew's pretty blonde girlfriend? It was obvious they weren't fucking; Stick's presence alone should have clued her in, if she missed that Elektra herself was half-dead. The girl is too stupid to survive in Matthew's world if she couldn't figure that out.

She taps her fingernail against her glass. Perhaps Matthew's morals are finally rubbing off on her, she thinks with distaste. Perhaps this is a sign she needs to take a step back, that she's too close to this, to Matthew.

No, that's not it. Elektra knows that's not it. She's … curious, that's all. Curious about this slip of a girl who has so captured Matthew's interest. Curious about what it takes to turn a man's head away from her. Curious if the girl's lips taste sweet, if she kisses soft or bites back, if she'll show Elektra that spine of steel and draw blood with her kitten teeth.

She finishes her mezcal in a single swallow. It doesn't matter now. What's done is done, and she'll be leaving Matthew's city soon enough. If she prays to a god she doesn't believe in to keep the soft blonde alive, well, there's no one here to know.


	60. Frank/Karen, things you said while I was crying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For thezelbinion on Tumblr.

"I'm sorry."

Karen jumped at the sound of his voice, instinctively wiping her face. "It's not your fault, Frank."

"I know." 

He settled on the couch next to her, close enough that she could feel his warmth. Karen quickly closed the small gap between them and curled up against his side, letting that heat soak into her bones. He wrapped his arm around her and held her close, letting her cry into his side, letting her soak his teeshirt with her tears. Frank smelled like blood and gunpowder--and it still sometimes scared her that she knew that smell intimately--but his body was solid under her hands, and that was enough. He didn't ask her what was wrong, what of the many possible reasons she had to cry had caught her at a vulnerable moment, he just sat there and stroked her hair as she worked through it.

Finally, Karen sat up and wiped her nose on the back of her hand, laughing self-consciously. "I'm sorry. You didn't come here to--"

Frank shushed her. "It can wait." He stood up, his hand on her shoulder keeping her seated. "Takeout menus still in the drawer next to the fridge?"

"Yeah." She reached for a tissue and blew her nose. "Thank you."

"Not a problem, ma'am."

Karen huffed out a laugh. "I told you not to call me that."

"Sorry. Habit." She could hear the smile in his voice, and knew he'd called her ma'am on purpose. "You want Indian again?"

"Yeah. Indian's good."


	61. Natasha/Pepper things you said with no space between us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anonymous on Tumblr.

"Is there anything else I can get you, Miss Potts?"

Pepper looked up, meeting Natalie's eyes. They've both been working long hours, trying--in vain--to fix all the problems Tony had created with his abrupt exit, and Pepper was exhausted. Her back hurt, her head hurt, even her feet hurt, which was something she thought she'd left behind when she started buying custom-made heels with her expense account. But even perfectly fitted Louboutins were no match for sixteen hour days.

And yet Natalie looked as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as she had when she'd come in this morning at 7am. Pepper sighed and rubbed her temples. "No, thank Natalie. You should go home, get some rest."

She smiled, her red lips framing her model-perfect teeth. "I could say the same to you, Miss Potts. You've been here just as long as I have."

Pepper shook her head. "I need to go over these contracts tonight. We have that meeting with HC&B in the morning--"

Natalie placed her hand over the contract, spreading her fingers and drawing Pepper's eyes toward her perfectly manicured nails. "Miss Potts. Pepper," she said, voice low and silky, "let me take you home."

Pepper swallowed. "Actually, that would be nice."

Natalie smiled again, but this time Pepper smiled back.


	62. Foggy/Matt, things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anonymous on Tumblr.

"Jesus, Matty, what have you been eating, nails?"

Matt laughed and leaned more heavily into Foggy's side. He probably shouldn't have had that last shot; his balance was completely fucked. "Same thing as you, buddy, whatever that crap they serve in the cafeteria that they call food."

Foggy's laugh vibrated through Matt's body, warming him from the inside. "Yeah, but the difference is, you somehow don't _look_ like you gained the freshman fifteen. Or first year thirty, whatever," he said, waving his free hand around to make his point. "Semantics."

"Hey, I offered to take you to the gym with me," Matt said. "Several times, actually."

"Yeah, Matty, I love you, but I do not love you that much," Foggy said. "Two steps down, then we're turning right. Or really, I don't hate myself that much. The gym and I do not get along."

"So you've said." Foggy pulled on his arm to stop him a half-second before Matt's cane hit the door of their dorm. Matt inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of Foggy's skin and the faintest hint of the only cologne that didn't make Matt sneeze. He waited while Foggy fished his student ID out of his wallet and slid it through the card reader to unlock the door, then let Foggy lead him through the lobby and into the elevator. "I still think you'd like it," he said, once the elevator doors slid shut and they were on their way up.

"Huh?" Foggy's hair brushed the collar of his shirt as he turned to look at Matt, clearly confused. "Oh, the gym thing? Nah. I wouldn't want to get too sexy; the ladies already find me irresistible." His tone was slightly off, and Matt frowned, but before he could say anything, the elevator doors opened, and Foggy was dragging him toward their dorm room. 

As soon as they got inside, Matt threw his glasses on his bedside table and flopped face-first onto his bed. "Foggy, you're my hero," he told his pillow.

Foggy laughed. "Go to sleep, Matty."

"Mmmf."

Matt was nearly asleep when he heard Foggy come back from the bathroom. "I do love you, Matt," he whispered, so low that anyone but Matt wouldn't have heard it. "I really do."


	63. Karen/Frank, slept in the same bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> karen/frank We slept in the same bed for space reasons but now we’re just waking up and there’s something about your bleary eyes and mussed hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for rescuemepotts on Tumblr

The obnoxious blaring of her cell phone dragged Karen kicking and screaming from the best sleep she'd had in months. She reached for it, blindly, unwilling to open her eyes and wreck the illusion that she might be able to go back to sleep if she answered it. "Page," she muttered.

A pair of arms squeezed her middle as if on reflex, and suddenly, Karen was fully awake. She remembered Frank stumbling into her apartment last night, bruised and bloody and close to falling over; the look on Claire's face when she showed up to find the emergency Karen had called her to was The Punisher, not Daredevil; and finally convincing Frank to stay and sleep by agreeing to share her bed.

The voice on the other end continued, but Karen couldn't seem to focus on anything but the warm body spooned up behind her. "I'll call you back," she said, hanging up before they had a chance to respond.

"Who'zat?" Frank asked, voice rougher than usual.

Karen turned over, putting them face to face. Frank's hair, longer than it had been when they first met, was mussed from sleep, and he had a crease on his face from her pillow. In the faint sunlight seeping in through her curtains, his bruises looked worse than they had last night, the purple and black rings around his eyes fading into green on his cheekbone. She reached up and touched the line of stitches holding the skin of his cheek together, and Frank sucked in a breath and held it as her fingers delicately traced his jawline. He growled her name, half plea, half warning, but she ignored him, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his mouth.

"Karen," he breathed, and kissed her back.


	64. Frank & Foggy (in a Frank/Karen universe), things you said at the kitchen table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank & Foggy (in a Frank/Karen universe), things you said at the kitchen table

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anonymous on Tumblr.

"So," Foggy said, trying to keep his voice light, eyeing the murderer sitting across the kitchen table from him, "kill anybody lately?"

Castle raised an eyebrow and took a long swig of his beer. "Get any murderers off lately?"

"Because that's an equivalent situation," Foggy shot back.

Castle shrugged. "If they get out and kill again, that blood's not on your hands?"

Foggy narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here, Castle?"

"Same as you. Waiting for Karen."

Foggy pinched the bridge of his nose, willing away the stress headache he could feel building behind his eyes. "Waiting for Karen," he repeated, voice flat.

"That's what I said."

"Christ," Foggy swore. "I'm not nearly drunk enough for this conversation."

The corner of Castle's mouth tilted upward. "Beer's in the fridge."


	65. Matt/Foggy, "No, you don't get a choice"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt/Foggy, "No, you don't get a choice"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For rescuemepotts on Tumblr (who thought she was getting angst and pain but got drinking fluff instead)

"Wait a minute," Matt protested, cringing at the horrible scent wafting out of the shot glass. "This is cruel and unusual punishment, counsellor."

He could hear the smirk in Foggy's voice. "Oh no, you do not get to play that card, buddy. You know what was cruel and unusual? You sexiling me on a Tuesday night before I had an exam. I ended up at Lenny's Taqueria at 3am, Matt. Lenny's. Taqueria," he repeated, emphasizing each word by tapping his finger on the table. "You know who's at Lenny's Taqueria at 3am on a weeknight? Wasted underclassmen. You know who's not usually at Lenny's Taqueria at 3am on a weeknight? Law students who actually want to pass the bar sometime in the next decade." Foggy's chair squeaked as he leaned back in it, probably crossing his arms. "This, my good friend, is what we in the legal profession call 'payback.'"

"No we don't," Matt shot back. He grimaced and brought the shot glass closer to his nose. "Can't I make it up to you some other way? Give you her number? Carry your books? Anything?"

Foggy shook his head, causing his hair to brush against the collar of his shirt. "Nope, you do not get a choice here, buddy. As the wronged party, I make the rules."

"You're the worst," Matt muttered. "Fine." He took a deep breath through his mouth and threw back the shot, breathing out through his nose as soon as he swallowed. Before he could register the absolutely _vile_ taste, he followed up with a long swig of his beer. "I hate you so much right now," he coughed.

"You love me," Foggy said, voice light and happy in a way that warmed Matt down to his toes. "Next round's on you, and we'll call it even."

Matt grinned. "Deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, taking a shot this way will keep you from gagging pretty much anything. I used to be a pro at this.


	66. Steve & Bucky, "Maybe you're not thinking hard enough"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> steve/bucky 19 Maybe you’re not thinking hard enough. (With bonus Howling Commandos.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Melifair, even though this isn't what she asked for. (I swear it said #19. I SWEAR!)

"We are so fucked," Bucky said, checking his clip for the sixth time, hoping against hope that it had miraculously refilled. Bullets whizzed overhead while others ricocheted off the side of the Jeep with a worrying ping. "So fucked."

Dernier agreed, adding several colorful French phrases that Bucky couldn't translate exactly, but could understand well enough. The rest of the Commandos had attacked the base head-on, leaving Bucky and Dernier to cover their exit, but they'd been spotted. Now Hydra soldiers had the pair of them pinned down behind their own getaway vehicle, and they were almost out of ammunition.

Bucky lifted his gun over the Jeep's hood, keeping his head safely hidden, and blindly shot twice. That prompted the enemy to return fire, and bullets riddled the side of the Jeep. "How many you think?"

Dernier waited for a lull in the shooting and peeked under the Jeep. "Twenty, maybe thirty," he said.

"You got any grenades left?"

" _Oui, duex._ We go down swinging, yes?" At Bucky's nod, he handed over one of the grenades, keeping one for himself.

"Let's do this," Bucky said. "Three, tw--"

His countdown was cut off by the sound of a massive explosion that rocked the Jeep. Bucky and Dernier flattened themselves against the ground, taking cover as another explosion rattled them, followed quickly by screams and machine gun fire.

With the concussive force still ringing through their ears, the pair of them cautiously climbed to their knees to see what was going on, only to see Dum Dum grinning at them through the broken windows. Morita stood next to him, looking at the bullet-riddled engine compartment. "I think we need a new ride."

"Jones is working on that," Dum Dum said, offering Bucky a hand up. "Let's get out of here."

Without the Hydra soldiers shooting at them, their retreat went quickly and smoothly. Gabe had commandeered a Hydra Jeep, and before they could pile in for the drive back to Allied territory, Steve wrapped Bucky up in a bone-crushing hug. "You jerk," he hissed. "What were you thinking?"

Bucky hugged him back, feeling weak in the face of the coming adrenaline crash. "I learned that move from you, punk."

Steve's laugh was a little too high and manic. "I can't think of a single time I've done something that stupid."

"Maybe you’re not thinking hard enough," Bucky shot back. "We'll talk about it when we get back to base, okay?"

"You're damn right we will, Sergeant."


	67. Claire/Karen, Why are you/we whispering?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire/Karen, #43 Why are you/we whispering?

Claire woke up to someone pounding on her front door. She reached blindly for her phone to check the time, groaning when it said 4:23am. "Coming, I'm coming!" she yelled, wrapping herself up in her robe. More careful than she would have been a few months ago, Claire looked through the peephole before opening the door for Matt's blonde secretary. "Can I help you?"

The woman--Karen, Claire remembered, hazily--shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Can I come in?"

Claire narrowed her eyes, but stepped back to let her pass. "Why are you whispering?"

"You're Matt's friend, right? The nurse?" Her hands fluttered nervously, glancing around Claire's darkened apartment. "You help him out when he… well, you help him out, right?"

Claire nodded slowly, watching the way Karen's eyes wouldn't quite meet hers. "Yeah," she said. "Is he hurt?"

"Not--not exactly," Karen admitted. "It's not Matt."

With a deep sigh, Claire turned back toward her bedroom. "Let me get dressed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continues in chapter 68.


	68. Frank/Claire, “I’m alive… I can tell because of the pain.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank/Claire, “I’m alive… I can tell because of the pain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows immediately after Chapter 67.

Claire, dressed hastily in a set of scrubs from the hospital where she no longer worked, followed Karen down to the street and to an illegally parked car with her extensive first aid kit. The sedan looked like it has seen better days, but it started up on the first try, so Claire didn't worry much.

Even at this time of night, the streets of New York weren't empty. Karen wove in and out of traffic, finally turning the wrong way down a one-way street and into a shady looking warehouse. She turned off the engine and signaled for Claire to stay put, opening her own door slowly. "Frank? It's me. You alive?"

Somewhere in the dark, a man laughed. "Yeah, I'm alive. I can tell 'cause it hurts like hell."

"Good," Karen said. "He's over here," she added, this time toward Claire.

Claire followed Karen out of the car, toward what looked like it had been an office. A large pitbull lay on the concrete outside the open door, a threatening growl morphing into a welcoming bark when Karen murmured to it. Inside the office, a man was slumped against the wall, one hand pressed into his side. Even in the dim light given off by the single swinging bulb, Claire recognized Frank Castle from his trial. "You've got to be kidding me," she muttered to herself. Aloud, she said, "Okay, I want to know nothing about the circumstances of this. Take off his shirt."

Karen knelt next to Frank and obeyed, over his weak objections. His midsection was a mess of bruises and cuts, with bright red blood oozing from a nasty-looking gash that was at least eight inches long. "Did you hit your head? Take any painkillers?" Frank shook his head, wincing when that jostled whatever injuries he had. Claire rummaged in her bag, pulling out two pairs of latex gloves, some iodine antiseptic wipes, sterile gauze, and a suture kit. She handed one pair of gloves to Karen and pulled the other ones on her hands with a snap. "This is going to sting," she warned, opening one of the iodine wipes and cleaning the area immediately around the wound. The muscles under her hand tensed, but Frank didn’t make a sound.

The cut was long, but shallow, and it didn't take Claire long to close it up. Karen sat silently by her side, wiping up the blood when Claire directed her. He winced when she ran firm fingers over his chest. "You have at least two broken ribs," Claire said. "Probably more, but I'd need to see an x-ray to confirm that. I assume you won't be going to the hospital?"

Frank huffed out a laugh that turned into a groan of pain. "Don't think that would be a good idea, ma'am."

"Yeah well," she said, taking the gloves off and tucking them into a bio-hazard bag, "you keep this up and you'll end up in the morgue." She turned her attention to Karen, handing her a bottle of antibiotics she'd swiped from Metro-General before she'd quit. "He needs fluids and rest. Give him one of these and two ibuprofen every four hours, and don't let him do anything strenuous for at least three days. Seven would be better. Watch that wound; if it starts to smell or ooze anything but blood, call me immediately." She paused. "You have my number, right?"

Karen nodded. "Thank you," she said, voice soft.

"Don't thank me. Just… don't."

Karen didn't argue, instead stripping off her gloves and grabbing her car keys. "I can at least give you a ride back home."

Claire sighed, suddenly very, very tired. "Yeah, that would be good." She spared one last look at Frank Castle, sprawled half-dead on the floor, and followed Karen to her car.


	69. Matt/Elektra, “It’s 8:30, I have a hangover and you’re annoying me.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elektra and Matt #20 “It’s 8:30, I have a hangover and you’re annoying me.”

"Matthew, if you want to keep that hand, you will remove it from my ass immediately."

He laughed, his breath warm on her neck, and his fingers slid down the curve of her ass toward her cunt. "Where should I put it then?"

Elektra grumbled even as she spread her legs to give him better access. "I'm sure you can think of something."

Matthew pressed soft kisses to her shoulders as he teased her toward orgasm, those brutal hands playing her like an instrument. She came with his name on her lips and his mouth on her neck, the scratch of his morning stubble a delicious counterpoint to the gentleness of his kiss.

Sated, Elektra turned over onto her stomach, throwing one leg over Matthew's thighs and an arm across his chest. "Now let me sleep," she murmured.

He nudged her hand toward his erection, pouting. "What about me?"

"Matthew, it's 8:30, I have a hangover, and you're annoying me." He whined when she squeezed his cock and started jerking him lazily. "You owe me pie for this," she murmured, grinning at his whimper, "making me work this early in the morning."


	70. Frank & Jessica Jones, "Are you drunk?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank & Jessica Jones, #1 Are you drunk?

"Are you drunk?"

The dark-haired woman shot him a withering look. "It's a bar. That's the general idea."

Frank arched an eyebrow. "This your work?" he asked, indicating the man lying on the floor, blood oozing from a cut on his forehead and his hands cupped around his genitals.

"I told him not to touch me. He's not a very good listener." She threw back her shot, then waved the empty glass at the bartender. "Another."

The man on the floor moaned pitifully when Frank nudged him with a booted toe. He shrugged and settled himself on the stool next to the woman. "I'm Frank."

She bared her teeth at him in a mockery of a smile. "Go fuck yourself, Frank."

He chuckled and waved down the bartender. "I heard you were the woman to see about finding someone who doesn't want to be found, Jones."

Her expression turned wary and she looked him up and down. "If your wife ran off, she probably had a good reason. I don't get involved in that shit anymore."

Frank shook his head and pulled a CD from inside his jacket. "Looking for the guy who wrote this program. Money's not an issue," he said, cutting off her objection by sliding an envelope filled with cash alongside the CD case.

Jessica grabbed the envelope and her eyes widened when she looked inside. She shoved it into the pocket of her jacket and raised her glass with a smile. "Well, Frank, looks like you have yourself a private eye."


	71. Matt/Elektra, “My nightmares are usually about losing you.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt/Elektra #25 “My nightmares are usually about losing you.”

Elektra opened her eyes, confused as to why she was suddenly awake. She lay still, listening for any threat, but heard nothing. Next to her, Matthew whimpered in his sleep, his body rigid with tension. She called his name softly, but he didn't respond. Frowning, she reached out to touch his shoulder.

Before she could react, Matthew grabbed her wrist and flipped them, pinning her under his not-inconsiderable bulk. His eyes, always unfocused, were even more vacant than usual, staring at something neither of them could see. Surprised and more than a little scared, Elektra leveraged him off her with all her strength, tossing him off the bed entirely. "Jesus, Matthew, what the fuck?"

He lay on the floor, blinking up at the ceiling, while Elektra edged back against the headboard. He sat up and turned his face toward her, his gaze aimed somewhere over her left shoulder. "Elektra? I'm sorry, I--" He trailed off and scrubbed a hand over his face.

Elektra licked her lips. "What… what happened?"

He shrugged. "Nightmare. Same one I always have, about the accident. Details change but…" He trailed off. "Do you want me to go?"

She honestly considered telling him to get dressed and get out, but he looked so lost, sitting on her floor in his underwear with his fluffy hair standing straight up. She sighed, weak against him like she was with no one else. "Come back to bed, Matthew." 

He shot her that sweet, beautiful smile that always made her heart beat a little faster, and climbed back into her bed to curl up at her side. She threaded her fingers through his hair, scratching idly at his scalp and listening to his breathing slow and even out. "Do you ever have them?" he murmured, voice rumbling against her skin.

It took every ounce of her training not to flinch at the question. She had more reason for nightmares than he could ever imagine, more blood on her hands than he could ever know. "Yes," she said, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "My nightmares are usually about losing you."

Her heart stayed steady as she said it, because it wasn't truly a lie, and Matthew smiled.


	72. Claire/Karen, “And that’s how I ended up standing naked on the Brooklyn Bridge on Christmas Eve.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire/Karen, “And that’s how I ended up standing naked on the Brooklyn Bridge on Christmas Eve.”

“And that’s how I ended up standing naked on the Brooklyn Bridge on Christmas Eve."

Karen doubled over with laughter, her forehead pressed against the disgustingly sticky bartop at Josie's. "You can't be serious."

Claire raised her hand. "Scout's honor. I tried to save some modesty at the beginning, but halfway across that I gave up and just held my boobs. It was only about a quarter of a mile, but man," she shuddered, "I had a newfound respect for sports bras afterward."

Karen cringed in sympathy. "What happened when you got back?"

"I got dressed and we all went back to the bar, and I didn't have to pay for a drink the whole spring semester." She tipped her glass toward Karen. "For a broke nursing student, it was worth the frozen ass."

Karen laughed along with her, flush with happiness and alcohol. "Thanks for meeting me tonight," she said. "It's nice to have someone to talk to who gets it." 

Claire smiled and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Yeah, it is."


	73. Karen/Frank, sex with clothes half on/panties still on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen/Frank, sex with clothes half on/panties still on

"You asshole," Karen hisses, nails clawing at the shoulders of his kevlar vest. "You _fucking asshole_. I thought you were dead."

Frank cuts her off with a searing kiss, only breaking it to strip off her blouse. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I had to," he murmurs into her neck, apologies like bruises on her skin as he rucks her skirt up around her waist and yanks her panties aside to make room for his fingers. Her head falls back, hitting the wall behind her with a soft thump when he finds her clit, his clever, deadly fingers rubbing in just the right rhythm to have her whining his name. He has her coming in moments, but it's not enough. Her body is vibrating with adrenaline and anger and grief, and she needs _more_.

"I got you, baby," he says, unbuttoning his pants just enough to pull out his erection, and picks her up. Karen wraps her legs around his waist as he presses into her, pinning her between his cock and the wall. She buries her face into his neck, breathing in the acrid tang of the gunpowder clinging to his skin and the too-strong scent of blood that has soaked through his shirt. He's whispering her name in time with his thrusts, and her face is wet with tears when she comes again, this time with him inside her, alive and whole. Frank follows soon after, body going rigid.

Neither of them are entirely steady when he lets her down, and Karen takes advantage by sliding the rest of the way down the wall and pulling him with her. "Don't ever do that again," she says, voice hard even through her tears.

Frank lays his head on her bare thighs, turning his face up so he can meet her eyes. "I can't promise you that, Karen."

She grits her teeth and closes her eyes. "I know," she whispers. "I know."


	74. Frank/Karen “you’re only allowed to sit there and watch until I tell you otherwise”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank/Karen for the prompt “You’re only allowed to sit there and watch until I tell you otherwise”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For rescuemepotts on Tumblr.

Karen's straddling his thighs, still wearing her black lace bra and matching panties. She'd been on a date tonight, some pencil-pusher she met at the office, and Frank lets himself feel a flush of pride that he's the one in her bed, the one who stripped her out of that little black dress and kissed away her perfectly applied lipstick. He hates that he can't be what she wants, but this-- This he can do.

Frank reaches up for her, but she catches his wrist and presses it back to into the pillow. "No touching. Not until I say."

He swallows hard, his dick twitching at the dark promise in her voice. "Yes, ma'am."

Karen climbs off the bed and undoes the clasp of her bra, letting it fall off her arms and onto the floor. He sits up and scoots toward the head of the bed, leaning against the headboard to get a better view. His palms itch to reach up and cup her firm breasts, to roll her nipples between his fingers until they pebble up and she's whining, but he grits his teeth and watches as she does it instead.

She slides one hand down, tracing the slight curve of her stomach and skittering over the front of her panties to tease herself over the thin cloth. "You like watching me, Frank?"

"God, yes." _Like_ isn't a strong enough word for how he feels about watching her slide those panties down her long legs until they're a pool of black on the hardwood, but his brain is too focused on Karen to go digging through long-unused vocabulary lessons.

She laughs. "Good. I want you to watch me." Karen crawls back on the bed, settling herself in his lap, close enough that he can feel the damp heat of her against his dick. She starts fingering herself, her knuckles brushing the underside of his cock, and Frank has to grab the sheets to keep from reaching for her. She's fucking beautiful like this, her back arching as she chases her own orgasm, the ends of her long hair brushing against his legs. She comes with a quiet cry, her free hand digging into the meat of his thigh for balance, and he can't quite stop his hips from bucking up.

It takes her a moment to come back to herself, but Frank can be patient. Finally, she smiles down at him and wraps her wet fingers around his shaft, holding it in place so she can sink down onto it with a breathy moan. "You can touch me now," she says, with all the imperiousness of a queen, and Frank wastes no time reaching up to drag her in for a kiss. She moans into his mouth, but when he tries to deepen the kiss, to chase the last taste of after-dinner coffee from her mouth, she bites his lip. "Just because you can touch," she whispers, kissing away the sharp pain, "doesn't mean I'm not still in charge."

Frank's arousal spikes even higher and he settles his hands on the curve of her waist. She braces hers on his shoulders, and uses him for leverage to fuck herself on his cock. She goes slow at first, letting him feel every hot, slick inch of her. "You feel so good, so beautiful, god baby, you're perfect." Frank's aware he's talking, words spilling out too fast to catch them, but they only make Karen moan and fuck him harder. He keeps talking, telling her how hot she feels, how tight she is, how gorgeous and perfect and amazing she is, and when she comes this time, it's with his fingers on her clit and his name in her mouth.

She's a little dazed from her second orgasm, and Frank takes advantage, flipping her onto her back and thrusting back inside before she can recover. He's already close from feeling her come around him, so it doesn't take long before his motions go erratic and he's coming inside her, breathing her name into the curve of her neck.

"Asshole," she says, voice fond as she strokes his hair. 

He laughs and kisses her before pulling out and flopping onto his back. "You like it."

Karen props herself up on one arm so she can look down at him. "Yeah, I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know how difficult it is to write smut with a toddler hanging off your arm, begging you to play "Shoshen"? She was very upset that instead of going to YouTube and playing "Let It Go" for her for the millionth time, I was using my computer to do boring stuff. BUT I POWERED THROUGH, just for you my darlings.

**Author's Note:**

> Though this is marked 'complete' (as each ficlet is self-contained and complete in itself) I will probably be adding more chapters to this as I write more ficlets.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Furry Theives](https://archiveofourown.org/works/552478) by [Illusinia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illusinia/pseuds/Illusinia)
  * [Untitled Karen/Frank promptfic [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6704263) by [blackglass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackglass/pseuds/blackglass)




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